


She with Many Names

by elizabethemerald



Series: Morgana centric stories [2]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethemerald/pseuds/elizabethemerald
Summary: Merlin the wizard took the hand of Morgan Le Fay to forge his amulet, that would eventually choose Jim Lake Jr as Trollhunter. However much happens before the amulet finds its way to Jim.
Series: Morgana centric stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870798
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26





	1. Morgan Le Fay

Morgan Le Fay danced alone in the woods. Golden glyphs appeared in the air around her as she effortlessly wove her magic into her surroundings. Faye Magic sang in her veins with every beat of her heart. The answering song of magic trilled through the grove. 

Magic was an innate part of her, as natural as breathing, from her Faye heritage. However even among those with Faye blood she was powerful. She flexed her hands, allowing her golden armored fingers to clack lightly together. Even more magic flowed into the spell she was weaving. 

She paused in her dance, closing examining the glyphs and runes that hovered there. The spell still wasn’t quite right. Her left hand danced almost with a life of its own while she carved more symbols into the air. Magic always came easier through her left hand then through the right. The golden sigil began to spin on its own as she finished inscribing and floated away from her to join the rest. 

Morgan breathed in deeply, feeling the strain of the magic she was controlling. No one else alive could even attempt a spell like she was working on, but it was still draining her reserves. She let out the breath with a sigh and extended her awareness. 

She could feel every tree in the grove. Every ant among the grass. Every beast and plant hidden among the wood. And she could sense every shiver and quiver of magic. Most importantly she could not sense her master. The only magic around was her own. 

Another deep breath in and she began to pull on another source of magic. One that was deeper...darker. The Faye magic that was her life blood could only drive this spell so far and she needed more power. 

She focused on her anger, on her fear, on her disgust, on her grief and poured that into her spell. The shadows around her grew longer and darker. She grimaced as the dark magic began to bite at her, pain eating at her insides. Her master would surely kill her if he saw her using these dark magics, but what did Merlin know?

If she could perfect this spell then her changelings could end all the senseless blood shed between human and troll kind. They could act as emissaries between the two species, walk in daylight like humans did and feel the warmth of the heartstone like the trolls did. Was peace not worth utilizing some magics that could harm and poison the user? Morgan considered the pain she put her body through to be a cost well worth the potential of seeing them all come together. 

Morgan drew on more and more of hurt and all of the feelings Merlin considered beneath him. Slowly she was lifted off the ground as the tides of magic flowed through her into the glyphs and sigils. She was careful not to draw too much of this dark power. She couldn’t let it poison and take over her mind. 

Finally with one last wave of power she settled back onto the grass. She looked around in satisfaction at the spell her dance had created. It was almost completed. Soon she would be able to bond a troll welp to a human infant to form a creature more powerful than either. 

With a soft smile of satisfaction she cut the flow of magic, tying off the spell. The sigils flared brightly for a moment longer then faded to nothing. Soon there was no trace of the magic she had melded into this space. 

Her smile faded into a grimace as a wave of pain slowly brought her to her knees. She curled up gently, holding her arms tight to her stomach. There was a bone deep ache that spread from her hands and shoulders. Her legs felt like they were filled with pins and needles and her insides burned like she had swallowed coals. Tears fell from her eyes as she leaned to the side and retched, her stomach heaving up nothing but bile and blood. 

As she cried softly from the pain that wracked her body, she couldn’t help a feeling of happiness. Any sacrifice she made to her body would be well worth peace. She could live with the pain and damage the dark magic did to her body if she could only stop the killing. 

Eventually the tears stilled and retching slowed. She wearily got to her feet. Even besides the deep ache from the dark magic she was exhausted. The Faye Magic inside her was almost completely tapped. It would be a few days before she could so even light a candle with a spell. And of course she couldn’t rely on her dark magic around her master. She slowly kicked some dirt over what she had thrown up and walked out of wood. She wanted nothing more than to rest. 

Morgan carefully dragged herself back to the castle. She didn’t even have the magic to hover there and spare her sore legs. When she got to her chambers she could sleep for the next couple of days and be ready to face the public. 

Much to her surprise the castle itself seemed to bustling with activity. Things had been so somber of late with constant ill tidings from the front of the war with the trolls, and yet here was the clear markings of a celebration. Banners hung from the castle walls and the halls echoed with the sounds of bards playing and singing. When she was within sight of the main entrance a knight standing there hailed her. 

“Lady Morgan! Lady Morgan!” He called to her. “How was your trip?”

“Fruitful.” She said, trying to hide the exhaustion in her voice. “And exhausting. What is happening? Is there some news from the front? Or my brother?”

“Nay my lady. Emrys bade us feast, so the next soldiers that leave for the front will remember and be filled with the fire of love for their home. Come join us!”

“Ah, of course.” Morgan gave the knight her best smile. Finally the old curmudgeon learns to have a fun and it when she’s so exhausted she can barely stand. “Well I am afraid my journey has taken more from me-”

“Aunt Morgan!” 

The excuse died on her lips as the teen boy, with shoulder length black hair came running up to her. Morgan smiled fondly as he ran up and gave her a tight hug. She hid her grimace of pain from the pressure on her body. 

“Aunt Morgan, you’re back just in time.” The young boy smiled up at her, though soon he would be as tall as she. “We are finally having a feast! I feel like everything has been so dower all the time, we can finally relax.”

He paused as he looked at her closely. She knew even with his own latent magic that he couldn’t sense the shadow of the dark magic she had used. However he still knew her to well, for her to hide everything from him. He could see her exhaustion on her face. His own contorted in sympathy. 

“Oh how rude of me. You must be tired from your trip. Why don’t you retire and I can have some wine and food sent up to you.”

Oh this boy. Her own nephew. And so much more to her. Everyone in the castle knew he was Arthur’s bastard, they whispered that he was born of some base born wench. But Morgan knew different. He had a special place in her heart. She smiled brightly at him. 

“Nonsense. I have the rest of my life to rest. How often do we get to have an actual feast? Lead the way, dear nephew.”

As she entered she removed the golden helmet she had worn during her ritual, and allowed her wild red curls to fall down her shoulders. She was tempted to retire to change out of her armor as well, but knew if she entered her room she would fall asleep before she could get dressed again. So she joined her nephew and the knights in the dining hall. 

* * *

Morgan walked, a little unsteady on her feet toward her chambers. Biggest downside of Faye blood was that even a sip of wine went straight to her head and she had significantly more than a sip. Maybe if she had not been so tired she would have showed more self restraint, but there was nothing wrong with a bit of fun. And her nephew had kept her cup filled for the entire night. 

She smiled wobbly to her self. He was a good lad. And while she would be hung over tomorrow and on top of her other pain might regret the festivities it was nice to see her nephew able to relax from all the pressure that was on him every day. With Arthur gone the weight of leading the remaining knights fell to his heir. 

A quickly muffled cry of pain echoed out of her as she stumbled on the last step and almost fell on her face. The wine must have been stronger than she thought. She felt like she could barely stand. The magic that normally blazed within her moved but slugglishly. No doubt due to enormous amount of magic she had used earlier. She carefully picked her way down the hall to her rooms. 

She opened the door with a sigh, all she wanted was to sleep for a week. 

As soon as she stepped inside the world felt like it flipped upside down. She fell to her knees as the door slammed shut behind her. A panicked look around showed her fear. All of the walls of her room had been covered with lead and iron panels. The faye magic inside her screamed in pain, and even had she not exhausted her magical stores would not be able to call on her ability. 

She looked more closely at the plates, and recognized the smith work. Of course, this was a completely human trap. If there had been any magic used even in her weakened state she would have sensed it. She groaned in pain as she tried to drag herself toward the door. If she could just open it, she could use her magic to call to her nephew. He would rouse the knights to help her. 

Before she could reach the door man stepped in front of her and pushed her back. She was too weak to fight him and her limbs felt like they were full of lead as he pulled chains across the room towards her. Iron chains. She tried to recoil in fear as the cold metal clasped itself to her bare skin, but he was too strong. 

“Iron chains. Lead and iron panels to block your magic. Iron powder in your drink to dull your senses.” Morgan’s mind was overwhelmed with pain. The pain from her earlier casting. The pain from the iron chains. And over it all, the pain of betrayal. She knew that voice. Merlin leaned down to her level so she could see his face. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed your little spell you are forging out in the woods? Do you think I will stand to have anyone use magic against me?”

She tried desperately to explain that the magic wasn’t an attack against him, but the pain in her head stopped her from speaking. Instead she reacted on instinct, pushing that pain through her and out targeting Merlin. 

A roar echoed in that small chamber as the shadows gathered, tearing themselves from the walls and forming into a great mouth. Morgan screamed and the shadows lunged forward. Merlin was knocked backwards and flung against the far wall. He was only barely able to form an emerald shield to protect himself. 

“Dark magic?” Merlin shouted as the green magic whirled around him driving the shadows back. “I should have known you would stoop to dark magic.”

Morgan howled again, driving the shadows against him. She could feel the furious pain from earlier returning with a vengeance and she could taste copper in her mouth as blood foamed at her lips. 

The shadows receded as the last of her magical energy drained away. She sagged against the burning hold of the iron chains. 

Merlin stepped forward drawing his sword. Morgan did her best to look up at him, pleading with her eyes. She always knew he would kill her if he found out she used dark magic. She just hoped that her master would continue to protect her brother and her nephew. 

He gave her a look that was almost loving, a look that was almost kind. 

"I am sorry." He whispered. 

Morgan's eyes grew wide as he pressed his blade to her arm, just below her wrist. The burning pain shot up her arm and she released a feral scream before consciousness was mercifully stolen from her. 

***

  
  



	2. Eldritch Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan Le Fay wakes after Merlin's betrayal.

Pain. 

Morgan came slowly to consciousness and all she could feel was pain. Radiating pain. Sharp pain. Burning pain. Twisting pain. A soft groan slipped past her lips. 

“Aunt Morgan!” She knew that voice. “Are you awake? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t move, let me help you.”

She groaned again as her head was gently lifted. A flask was pressed to her lips, she slowly swallowed the watered wine that filled her mouth. Even that hurt. 

With incredible effort she opened her eyes. The world spun wildly before her. Her Faye magic flowed sluggishly through her unable to find an anchor. She struggled to bring the boy in front of her into focus. When she could finally see him clearly she tried to pull away. 

“Morgan, I’m so sorry. I had no idea what he was going to do. I didn’t know he was going to hurt you like this. I’m sorry, I never would have let it happen if I had known.”

“What…?” She struggled to focus past pain that filled her. “How…?”

Her head hurt, her throat hurt, her chest and stomach hurt, her… she quickly gave up trying to catalog her pain. It was too much for her dwell on all at once. 

“Merlin said you had been pushing yourself too hard, that you needed a night off. He told me to keep your glass full, so you could relax from the stress of the war.”

Something her nephew said stuck out to her. A hazy memory swam into her mind. The wine. 

“Iron powder, in … the wine.” She forced the words out past the taste of blood in her mouth. 

“That makes sense.” He said. “Some of the men mentioned that it had tasted odd to them. And I had a worse headache after than I’ve ever had from wine.”

Her world suddenly came back into a razor focus. She had been afraid, deathly afraid, that her nephew had purposefully poisoned her. However her master apparently had threatened everyone at the feast. Including her nephew. His magic flowed with his Faye blood just like hers did, forcing a child to drink iron powder could permanently damage their ability to call on their magic. Or it could kill them, as the iron burned its way through their insides. Merlin had been willing to risk her nephew’s magical ability and life to target her. 

As her sudden rage blazed inside her, she struggled to sit up properly. Her nephew was quickly at her side helping her. She tried to brace herself and almost fell over sideways before he caught her. 

“Careful Aunt Morgan, your hand…” 

His voice drifted away from her as she turned to look at her hand. Or where her hand should be. All that remained was a cauterized stump. Her arm had been cut just below her elbow. She could only stare at her butchered limb in horror. After a few seconds she keyed back into her nephew’s voice. He was babbling more to himself than talking to her. 

“He woke me up in the morning. Ordered me down to his workshop. He melted down your hand to add to the amulet he made. I’m sorry, I recognized the armor on the hand, but I was so afraid. I thought for sure you were already dead. I thought he would kill me too if I said anything against him.”

Morgan lifted her other hand with difficulty and placed in on his shoulder. There was so much she wanted to say to him. That Merlin had no right to judge her for using dark magic, when he himself used blood magic. She wanted to rage that Merlin had hurt the both of them so much just for his foolish amulet. She wanted tell her nephew he couldn’t have stood against Merlin, especially with iron laced wine still in his system. All she could do was pat him on the shoulder. He gave her a stricken look, perhaps sensing all that went unsaid. 

“After we completed the amulet, I was able to find you in the prison. I got you out and away from the castle. I feared to move you too far, until you had awoken I couldn’t tell what damage had been done.”

Morgan nodded wearily. She glanced around at their surroundings. It looked like they were inside a barn, she could hear animals near by. They must be hiding from Merlin’s pursuit. 

“Thank you.” She whispered. “You need to go. He will kill you if he finds you with me.”

“Aunt Morgan-”

“No.” She interrupted. “My name is no longer Morgan Le Fay.” She paused and began drawing magic in from around her. The horses started to whinny in fear. “For now on I will be called Morgana! And I swear I will kill that wizard, whatever it takes.”

Her nephew looked at her for a moment. No doubt he could sense the dark magic in the air. He set a small wooden chest at her feet. “If you have given up your name, then I suppose so should I. I think I’ll go by Douxie. I know it can’t make up for what happened, but I got this for you.”

Douxie looked at the box, then at his aunt, then stood and grabbed a small travel bag and with the weight of what he felt were his crimes left the stable. 

Morgana, opened the chest and looked at the carved Jade hand that sat in a small nest of straw. She growled, pulling in more and more dark magic. The whinnying of the horses and squealing of the pigs grew louder around her. She grabbed it with her good hand and placed it against her stump. 

In that moment she could remember the exact pain of Merlin cutting her arm off. The burning of his iron blade, as it broke through her skin, severing her bones and cutting off her access to her Faye magic. She screamed and the dark magic stole the life force of every living thing around her. The force of her scream shattered the stable she was sheltering in. 

She stood in the center of the blackened crater, dead animals and plants surrounding her. She flexed her jade hand and began weaving the magic that would teleport her away. Golden sigils floated into the air, woven from the shadows that surrounded her. 

She was now someone new. Someone who would have revenge on Merlin if it was the last thing she did. Someone who would do whatever it took to achieve her goal. 

Morgana, the Eldritch Queen!


	3. Mother of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana has many names.

Morgana drew on more and more dark magic, wearing it around her shoulders like a cape. As she walked through the woods everything the trailing edge of the cloak of shadows touched withered. It was risky coming again so close to the castle, and even more so to draw so strongly on dark magic, but she knew that Merlin was far afield. He would not be returning to the castle for some time. 

Soon she reached the clearing where she had earlier woven her magic. To her senses she could still pick up the traces of the spell she had been working on. With a wave of her jade hand the air was filled with sigils and glyphs. 

Morgana cast a critical eye of the symbols. If she had continued on the slow process she had been on before it would have taken her months more to finish. However, Merlin forced her to move faster, she would finish the spell tonight. 

She turned and glanced over her shoulder to the small audience that had followed her to the clearing. Orlagk, king of the Gumm-Gumms stood behind her towering over even some of the nearby trees. He growled softly and leaned forward, his eyes hungry. Around him were several other Gumm-Gumms and a few goblins. 

“Bring forward the child.” Morgana snapped. She started to hover gently into the air. She extended her awareness of the world as far as it would go. She could sense every living thing within miles. Every blade of grass, every ant, every tree. Every human or troll. 

Her former master was so foolish. He had hated and feared dark magic. Yet he never truly understood it. Every other time she had come to this clearing she had been so careful. She made sure to only draw on her own body, though the cost of the spell could kill her, she made sure she alone paid the price of the necrotic drain. And then he had resorted to blood magic. 

Truly blood magic was just as evil as dark magic, even if it didn’t draw directly on the life force of the creature. Only Blood magic didn’t risk the soul of the caster. She had been taught that a soul could only stay near dark magic for so long before it became unrecognizably corrupted. 

Morgana would have been more than willing to only allow herself to be hurt by her magic if he hadn’t betrayed her. If he hadn’t hurt her, drugged her, taken her hand, left her for dead. If he hadn’t had risked her nephew’s magical potential and life for his pathetic amulet. Anything in order to bring peace. She was now no longer interested in peace. Merlin must be brought to his knees. 

Several goblins pulled two small baskets into the center of the circle of glyphs. She could sense the two heart beats within. A troll welp and a human infant. Soon they would be bonded forever more. 

The goblins stepped back, hiding behind Orlagk’s legs from the glowing magic. Morgana hovered a little higher and extended her arms. Shadows leapt from under the trees trees to cover her body. To her senses, it felt like a roiling wave of death spreading out from her. Every living thing the wave crested over died, drained away to nothing, the shadow of each soul and life force flew and gathered around her. 

The swirling black column extended past the leafless fingers of the dead trees of the grove, reaching toward the sky. She concentrated on her left hand. She couldn’t risk any fault of the jade in this creation. The shadow bent and cowed before her as she forced it into shape. Each of her movements were precise as more and more glyphs appeared in the air, these bound and edged in darkness. 

It wasn’t enough. She was forcing months of magic into a single spell. She needed more. She extended her awareness further searching for some other life force to feed her spell. At the very edge of the wall of death she could feel a great well of life. The shadows extended in the form of a great pair talons that blotted out the night sky. She braced herself to drain the well, then hesitated. 

It was her brother’s castle. The castle that had been her home for the past few years. Where Douxie had been born, where he had grownup making the halls echo with his shrieks of joy. She knew the knights there. Knew their families. The baker in the castle kitchen knew she had a sweet tooth and always made sure to add extra sugar to the rolls that Morgana had eaten. She hesitated, then pulled her magic back into herself. Whatever Merlin thought of her, whatever he told them of her, she was not evil. 

The spell still sat uncomplete, but she had a source of life much closer. First the goblins died. In pained shrieks and whimpers they collapsed to fuel her spell. Next came the trolls, the lesser Gumm-Gumms and stalklings screamed and roared as their bodies turned to stone and crumbled away to dust. There wouldn’t be enough left of them to attract even the most desperate gruesome. 

“Witch! What are you doing?” Orlagk roared. “These are my trolls!”

Morgana ignored him. Their life force flew in storming cloud to fill the last gaps in the sigils. A brilliant flash of light filled the grove and shot into the heavens. She closed her eyes against the glare and could distantly hear Orlagk roar again, whether in fear or rage she couldn’t say. 

As suddenly as the light appeared, it vanished. Left in its place were the two infants. Morgana hovered down next to them and picked up the small troll welp in her arms. She carefully maneuvered the delicate wings so she could hold him comfortably. 

“Did it work?” Orlagk asked. 

She ignored him. She had eyes only for the welp in her arms. She smiled at him.The baby troll however seemed to want to answer the question on his own. With a small sneeze and flash of green light the welp was gone and in its place was a human infant. Identical to the one now crying on the ground. Another sneeze and the welp was back. Morgana’s smile widened as she stared at the child. Her child. She glanced up at Orlagk and the few remaining trolls. They had their mouths opened wide in awe. As they should. 

“Take the human infant to the Darklands. The goblins will care for it. And behold! The first changeling!” She held up the welp allowing all the trolls to bask in her child’s presence. 

Morgana held the welp close as she and the trolls left. It would not do well to linger, surely someone at the castle had seen the display and no doubt sent word to Merlin. Now that the spell was complete it would not take nearly as much energy to cast it again. Even the simpler magic of the trolls and the Gumm-Gumms would be able to create more changelings. Soon her children would be able to spread across the world. 

Morgana’s smile turned cruel as she allowed the changeling to nibble on her finger. The changelings were the perfect spies. They could walk in daylight, blend into human society, vanish among any troll tribe, When there were more changelings they would be able to get revenge on Merlin for what he did to her. Her children would kill everyone the wizard was close to, weaken him for her assault. They would do anything she required, for she was, the Mother of Monsters!


End file.
